


Why Are You Here?

by Shamione



Series: Dramione One Shots [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Angst and Porn, Crack, Drug Use, Drugs, F/M, Harry Hates Her, POV Draco Malfoy, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Quickies, Recreational Drug Use, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25650667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamione/pseuds/Shamione
Summary: Draco hadn't seen her in nearly six weeks, after spending every weekend with her for the past two years. She had merely vanished. Then as if showing up from the ether, she appeared back at work this morning wholly ignoring him.But if there were even a slight potential that she'd be at Theo's tonight, so would he. He'd meet her on the second floor at 12:05 a.m. Their time. And he'd fuck her once again if she'd let him.Inspired by the Machine Gun Kelly song by the same name: Why are you here?Watch the music video here:music video
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Dramione One Shots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872553
Comments: 23
Kudos: 209
Collections: Completed/Downloaded/Read Works





	Why Are You Here?

"I don't know why you insist on dragging me there," Daphne scoffed from his leather couch, rolling her eyes as Draco groomed his hair in a mirror dangling against his sitting room wall.

"I drag nothing. You love attending, do not act otherwise."

"I do not! And you always ditch me."

"You show up here every Friday before I even invite you."

"And?"

"And I vividly recall you more often than not nearly shagging Zabini in the middle of the party before midnight," he laughed, turning to her with a grin. "So who ditches whom?"

"That does not mean I fancy going to Theo's," she snorted, at which Draco laughed.

"I don't enjoy it either."

"Now, that's a laugh."

Regardless of if Daphne believed him or not, it was the truth. He didn't necessarily want to attend Theo's lavish party this evening. Or visit the bar from which he'd just gotten home. Or the bookstore he had gone to before that.

But if there were even the slightest possibility that she'd be there, so would he.

She was plenty to lure him out of the cave that was his potions lab. Make him don a fake smile just to hunt for her in the depths of Theo's estate. Even if she hadn't been there for six weeks.

He'd go just for the slim possibility to see her face.

"Believe what you will," Draco shrugged, pacing to his mantel and cracking a small drawer within the base of an antique clock situated in its middle.

"You shouldn't," Daphne sighed.

"We all deal differently," Draco intoned.

The sparkling blue powder that fluttered to the crook of his thumb made his mouth water. His strain of Pixie Dust, the newest designer drug of choice running somewhat rampant since the end of the war. He had adapted his formula just over a year ago; longer-lasting, a mellower high, and more natural and trustworthy than the vials found throughout Knockturn.

And he welcomed the tingle of magic as the particles crashed against his nasal cavity. The numbness in his extremities seemed like heaven as his vision dimmed for a moment. Plunging back with a perception of reality that caused the world to seem okay. Made everything feel tolerable.

He slumped forward slightly, settling his hands against the mantle as his fingers tingled. He felt limp. A lameness that shoved craving underneath his gums and made his heart dance with glee. That made his mouth salivate as his eyes danced with color, his skin crawling with anticipation and exhilaration.

He knew he was right - everyone coped with the aftermath of the war differently. Daphne sought more carnal pleasures of the men and women that she frequented. Theo spent inordinate sums of money to hold weekly parties to feel important. Pansy completely ditched the wizarding world, opting to study fashion in the muggle world and denounce all she was prior.

Draco did drugs. And so did she.

He wasn't confident if it was the drugs that made him feel like he walked on air or being buried deep inside her every weekend evening. Or holding her as they read on the couch on Saturday mornings, sipping coffee to feel alive again. Or the lingering kisses she demanded before flooing from his home on Sunday nights.

But he loved it. Craved it. And had desperately missed it.

Just over six weeks ago, she had vanished entirely. Without a word. Without an owl explaining where she was. Her office within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where they both worked, had been vacant for 43 days. The door tarried shut, the lights off as stale air radiated from the slit underneath.

She hadn't been in public. Or any of the many private homes in which they frequently found one another. It was as though she had actually vanished, and no one had seemed to care. Not Potty or Weasel, who had abandoned her long ago. Not Kelter, the Department Head. No one. No one else appeared to notice she was gone.

And just like she shimmered out of a veil, she appeared this morning. The ardent, curly-haired witch had sauntered through the DRCMC doors with a radiant simper, no bags under her eyes, addressing everyone in the path to her office. Bright smiles as she offered people coffee or tea, giggling over apparent inside jokes. Utterly joyful with everyone about her.

Except him.

She hardly looked him in the eye when he approached her quietly, trying to quell the anger he observed at her radiant presence. When they interacted throughout the day, it was short and stilted, and she had appeared antsy. Fumbling with her fingers as her gaze refused to meet his. Thoroughly breaking his heart when he asked her what she was doing tonight, telling him she'd be alone before scurrying away hastily without a second glance.

"Come on then," Daphne scoffed, throwing Draco's arm around her shoulder as he slipped the vial into his pocket, and hauled him through the floo.

It was nearly eleven before his feet met the warm stone of his best mate's hearth. He nudged Daphne somewhat with his hip, a broad smile plastered on his lips as the music floating within the dwelling invaded his senses. As his fingers trembled with false happiness.

They wandered for a bit, passing by a few familiar faces and a slew of unknown characters, not unusual when visiting Theo's home. Lanterns floated around the ceiling, glittering soft, luminescent tones across the stone walls. Some rooms had already dissolved into loose coupling while others remained quiet with hushed conversations.

Draco found his eyes darting over every brunette as he and Daphne roamed, their fingers laced as she tried desperately to hold up his limp weight. He was searching for her. He examined anyone who slightly resembled her, thinking he might be able to close his eyes long enough to imagine it was her.

Daphne hauled him into the main sitting room then, her eyes wandering the room. But Draco's sights drew laser-focused on the long, plush sofa at the center.

Where she sat.

She was wrapped in his best mate's arm with a sappy look on her face. She was high, too. He could see the faint, inadequate purple veins of a Knockturn brew in the whites of her eyes as he forced Daphne toward the couch. A dazed smile lingered on her lips as her head bobbed to the music, her foot tapping slightly. Her pupils were dilated, echoing the depths of his own, as she twisted her head and their gazes met.

Her somewhat blank expression delighted for a moment, a sparkling smile coursing over her lips that made his heart pulse quicker. That made his mouth water and yet become wholly dry all at once. But her eyes shifted quickly to his arm around Daphne's shoulder, and a suspicious sneer painted her lips. Her sights met his anew for a fleeting second before turning to Theo, her hand gliding against this thigh and gripping lightly.

This witch and her audacity, Draco thought. Vanishing for six weeks and then turning up randomly jeering at him merely enjoying his life. Then taunting him with his own best mate. Like she had a right to tease him. To toy with him.

Wearing her hair the way she knew he loved - coiled in a loose bun that exposed the elegant expanse of her throat. That pleaded with him to sink his teeth into her flesh. Her skirt was cut well above her thigh, showing him the beautiful tattooed skin over the expanse of her lower half, appointments to which he had escorted her more often than not. Her sheer shirt offered a fascinating glimpse of her naturally tanned skin, and the artwork smattering her arms and chest, as well.

"Theo," Draco sneered.

"Mate! You're finally here!" Theo sang, and a happy smile infiltrated his face that was so distant to his companion's expression.

"Yeah, we ran late," Draco shrugged, tugging Daphne further against himself, hosting an eyebrow at the woman he had missed so desperately's unhidden eye roll.

"I'll be right back, Theo," she thundered, slipping her hand along his thigh as she stood.

Eyes locked to Draco's in a piercing stare before she scoffed indignantly, spun on her heels, and disappeared into the crowded hallway.

"That one, I swear," Theo laughed.

"Right," Draco sneered, and Daphne nearly shoved him into the spot next to Theo before disappearing down Hermione's same path.

He couldn't understand the words Theo spoke as the two relaxed next to one another. His best mate was sputtering about something, but Draco's mind was racing with thoughts of her. Of what he would say to her if she'd give him a chance. Of the arguments he craved to have and the apologies, he wanted to give her for whatever reason had made her run away.

An itch skirted down his spine some while later. It was nearly time, and his body knew it. Draco lifted his wrist, and his timepiece sang a wholly expected tune. It was midnight. And if she was still willing, she'd be waiting for him. He stood, feet drawing his body knowingly deep into the second floor of Theo's estate. Directly to where they always met when they were both here.

And he wasn't wrong. Lent against the doorway with a euphoric smile was Hermione Granger. Her head was leaned back against the wall as her eyes remained closed, fingers laced behind her back, and her hips thrust out slightly. One trainer-clad foot was driven against the wall behind her, stretching and flexing her thigh's sensual muscles.

12:05 a.m.

The exact minute their first tryst in the bathroom of a muggle pub had transpired. The exact moment they'd met every Friday for the past two years so he could bury himself deep within her. So she could pull his hair when he ate her out. So that he could fuck her mouth as her spit trailed her chin.

So he could escort her to his home and refuse to permit her departure until Sunday evening arrived.

He scoffed huskily, and her head lulled slowly to the sound of his footsteps. Her eyes cracked deliberately as a dangerous smile formed her lips, and the noise of his own heart filled his ears. As his eyes trailed over her artistic form without pause and she snickered.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" He grumbled, opening the bathroom door and shifting inside.

"A girl cannot attend a party with her friends?" She asked casually, trailing him into the bathroom and sealing the door behind them.

"Friends? Sure. Yours."

"Theo is my friend."

"He's your dealer."

"Don't tell him that," she shrugged, advancing further into the bathroom, spinning to perch against the countertop gently, hands falling to the marble as she leant back upon them.

"And what are you doing here?" he asked again, motioning his hand toward her position.

"I know you've got better than anyone out there."

"I haven't seen you in over six weeks, you disrespect me at work today as if you hate me, and now you're using me for my goods. How typical."

"And we're friends," she said, holding out her index finger.

Friends. They were unquestionably not friends. He could never merely be friends with the indelicate hot-head witch currently eyeing him. Her gaze half between inviting him into her bed once more and yearning to kill him.

He cocked a single eyebrow at the infuriatingly beautiful witch, who only smirked in response. The hint of a stolen Malfoy signature smirk waltzed over her lips, and he despised her for it. For how sexy she looked without even trying. For ignoring him during their day at the Ministry. For disappearing for six weeks without even a peep and showing up here as nothing had happened.

Draco slid two fingers into his jeans' front pocket, withdrawing the fine-grain, shimmering blue powder once more. But rather than shaking a small line along the thin expanse of her finger, he emptied one onto his. Her gaze lingered on his index finger for a moment, her sweet pink tongue moistening her lips gradually before her teeth pressed indentations against the supple expanse of her lower one.

Her nostrils were flared as she raised her head, and she looked so sensuous. Wanton. Needy. Her eyes seeming to beseech him for more than his drugs.

He stepped into her, a knee falling between her legs that separated to allow his entrance, a hand falling to her hip as the other held the powder between them. Her slim finger pressed one nostril closed before she leaned forward and slowly inhaled the Dust from his finger.

Her body shuddered slightly as the consequences of his formula floated down the column of her throat. Her breath quickened as her eyes closed, and her tongue slid against his finger languidly. He could feel the threat of a stiff cock pressing against his trousers, which charged fully erect as she wrapped her lips around his finger, leisurely sliding her head down and sucking his digit.

When her mouth met the tip of his finger, he slipped his middle finger in. Her lips wrapped around both as her head bobbed. Her tongue dancing around his digits as her eyes opened, driving desire into his abdomen as her passionate gaze burned into his skin.

Draco quickly withdrew his fingers, sliding his hand around her neck, forcing his fingers into the hair at her nape. Her eyes fluttered as a deep sigh left her lips parted, plumply enticing him. He leaned into her further, scarcely joining their mouths, and his soft breath mingling with her notably labored pants.

"You said you'd be at home," she whispered.

"And you said you were alone tonight," he acknowledged, his lips barely brushing hers as her jagged exhale ghosted across his chin. "So, we're both liars."

Their lips met in a slow, languid kiss then. A kiss that sent an untarnished frisson of desire down Draco's spine with each soft caress of their mouths. Merlin, he had missed this. Everything about this moment and everything about her. He pulled back some, their lips still near as her eyes remained sealed.

"What are you doing here, Granger?"

Her hands plunge into his hair then, drawing his mouth roughly to hers. Draco's cock pulsed a measure as she tugged his tresses coarsely, her teeth sinking dangerously into his lip as she moaned.

She was wild again tonight, clearly just as high as he was. He loved her like this. Demanding yet so submissive. Absolutely unhindered in her enthusiasm. Led only by the impulses of her body. She'd beg him soon - to bend her over the sink beneath her and bury himself deep inside her cunt.

And he would happily oblige. Slid into Hermione's tight, wet slit once more and feel the utter, unmitigated euphoria of her walls. Watch her in the mirror as her fingers gripped the edge of the marble counter, her head thrown back as he wrapped her curls within his fingers. Smack her tight arse when she pleaded for it. Choke her until she cried out in pleasure, her walls clamping around his cock and milking him.

His hands sank to her hips then, lifting her small form effortlessly onto the sink. As if by nature, her legs slid around his waist, ankles locking and holding him in place as their tongues mingled. She bit his lip again, and his cock twitched against the roughness of his jeans.

Her frantic hands skirted down his body as he intensified their kiss, gripping her hip and eliciting a deep moan. Her fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, and before he could respond, she was tugging his manhood free from his trousers. Biting his lip as she wrapped her hand around his arousal firmly, pumping slowly up and down with a gentle twist that drove him mad.

He let himself savor the sensation of her small hand again, having missed it desperately. Having tried to replicate her smooth skin but his own hand leaving him craving. But the pleasure coursing through him didn't want to wait, and he stepped back, lower her from the sink, and twirling her instantly. He witnessed her teeth submerge into her lower lip anew in the mirror as his palm pressed firmly into her back, urging her chest to the sink.

He smirked, flipping up her skirt and gripping her arse tightly as the scent of her arousal sent frissons of desire to his manhood. Draco spread her cheeks deliberately as she moaned softly, her fingers twitching as her arms stretched to the edge of the marble, anticipation evident on her wanton expression.

He slid a slow finger between her femininity and her knickers and embraced the wetness always meant for him. Her body shivered with a delicate moan, and he laughed huskily. Grinning lasciviously as he stretched her tiny knickers to the left side of her arse. 

Swiping his cock between her folds, he coated himself in her already soaking arousal as her chorus of pants and moans sang in his ears. Slowly, intentionally, he pressed the tip into her tight cunt as her mouth fell open in the mirror with a loud gasp.

Merlin, she felt incredible as he rocked his hips until he was fully sheathed within her. Unimaginable. Six weeks had been far too long. Too long being away from her. From her mind. From her giggles as he tickled her. From her furrowed brow as she read. From her precious slit that was clutching against his shaft and drawing him in further.

His eyes fell closed in concentration, to hold himself back to grant her release first as he withdrew and slammed back into her roughly. Over and over as his hands clutched her hips tightly. Relishing the feel of her. Loving the sounds of her loud gasps and lewd moans that enticed his hips to snap quicker. To punish her cunt for leaving him alone. To satisfy her for emerging again.

And she came quickly, her hand slapping against the mirror as her fingers trembled, trying to clutch their reflection. Her head was thrown back with utter pleasure written in every line of her face. Her walls fluttered around him, and her body shook, making him feel as though he was in the ether. It felt like absolute heaven, and he thrust his hips quicker, allowing himself to spill deep within her slit, leaning over and encircling his arms about her as he kissed her neck deftly.

His cock began to soften as he praised her neck slowly. Pulling Hermione up with him as he stood, he held her close as their bodies remainder connected in the middle. She looked thoroughly gorgeous, a satisfied smile on her face as her hand sought his nape, playing with the hair there with feather-light caresses.

Making his intoxicated body shudder and his breath catch. If he had a say, he'd never let her go. They would stay like this forever until they both starved to death, right here in Theo's bathroom. 

But she sighed contentedly, drawing her hips forward gently as his manhood slipped out of her. She giggled inaudibly as she turned, perching on the sink in front of him again, her fingers playing with his collar as he leaned in to kiss her slowly. Trying to drain the passion he felt throughout his entire body into her lips.

"We can never be friends," Draco whispered breathlessly against her lips as he pulled back slightly.

"Of course we…"

"I want it all or nothing, Granger," he muttered, running a hand up her body and enclosed it softly about the side of her neck. "You don't get to disappear for six weeks, then show up wrapped in my best mate's arms."

"I don't hate you."

"Fool the hell out of me."

"I… I was trying to get clean…" she whispered, and he felt his body stiffness as a swirl of unidentified emotion coursed through him.

"What the fuck, Granger!" He shouted, and she flinched.

She nearly fell off the sink forward as he suddenly pulled away, palpable anger coursing above all other emotions. How could she? Show up here after trying to get clean and begging him for his drugs. How dare her.

"You were trying to get clean? And you come here begging me for drugs?" he growled.

"I missed you," she whispered, and he could see the tears as they welled in her eyes.

"Fuck you!" he snarled, utter anger engulfing every ounce of him. "Don't put your relapse on me!"

"I'm not!" she sputtered. "I just missed you! This! Us!"

"There is no us! You could have told me any day! You could have owled me! You could have done anything! You didn't even want to see me!"

"Of course, I want to see you! I love you!"

Nausea built further in his gut as he almost bent at the waist from shock. He wanted to vomit on the floor. Had this insane witch just said she loved him? That was impossible. Improbable. He must be utterly out of his mind and imagining all of this. It couldn't be real. There was no way she could love him and how damaged he was. And if she did, she was entirely daft.

"No, you don't," he snapped. "Whatever this is, it is not love, Granger."

"How can you say that?" She shrieked, tears spilling down her cheeks, and he could swear he could hear them crashing upon the marble floor.

"You do my drugs, and we fuck. That is not love!"

"What's my favorite color?" She charged with a now determined stare, her eyes still shedding tears.

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"What is my favorite color?" She shouted.

"Blue, Granger, for fuck's sake," he snarled.

"What shade of blue?"

"Powder," he stated plainly, heat still tracing his tone.

"And yours is purple. Plum purple precisely. What is my favorite food?" She queried with heat, stepping toward him as he moved backward.

"Mango jalfrezi from that insufferable Indian restaurant."

"And yours is the pumpkin pasties your mum makes. When is my birthday?" Another step.

"19 September. Everyone knows that, Granger. That doesn't mean everyone loves you," he grumbled, but he could feel his heart trying to break free from its cage.

"What's my biggest fear?" Another step.

"What's my truest ambition?" Another step.

"Where are my parents?" Another step.

"Why does Harry not speak to me?" And Hermione was right before him.

He knew every answer. They flittered to the forefront of his mind with ease as his fingers itched to touch her.

She was afraid of failing at anything but mostly afraid to fail within the public's eyes, who lauded her more than she wished. Although, she also craved desperately to fade from their gaze. Still, she knew she could not escape it because of her deep desire to fight for total equality in the wizarding world. Two desires that would never mesh.

Her parents were in Australia, their memories of her obliterated without repair. And he was the only wizard that knew. Only he had been the one to hold her as she cried for weeks on end—the only wizard to attempt to soothe her absolutely broken heart.

And she didn't speak to Potter because he'd abandoned her when Ginny Weasley demanded it after learning of their tryst in a cold forest. When they had feared for their lives as they cuddled close, granting each other their virtue on a whim. And all of the Weasley's went with him. They left her wholly alone, crying on her kitchen floor, trying to cope with the indefinite loss of her parents and then the immediate loss of her best friends.

That's how she had ended up in his arms that first Friday evening, pressed against the cold, dirty tile of a muggle pub's bathroom wall. And then in his arms the next morning in his bed as she cried deeply. And that's how he found his fist connecting with Potter jaw the following Monday in the Ministry's atrium. He didn't genuinely know why his anger had led to such action, but the crunch of Potter's muzzle had felt exhilarating. 

"You know the answers to all of those questions. I know you do," Hermione spoke softly, but the determination in her voice was evident.

"That doesn't mean I love you," Draco murmured.

"Maybe not, but it doesn't stop me from loving you."

"You can't…"

"I can, and I do! How can I not?" She shouted suddenly, jabbing a finger into his chest. "We spend every weekend together at your flat! We have for two years! Are you telling me it meant nothing? That when we make love, you feel nothing?"

"You don't love me, or you would have just told me you quit…"

"I…"

"I would have quit," he said quietly, cutting her off.

"What?"

"I would have quit. I would have stopped making the Dust. I would have helped… You could have told me…"

"I didn't go to treatment willingly…"

"What do you mean?" He asked, utterly disoriented at her proclamation.

"Kelter said if I didn't get clean, I… I'd lose my job..."

"How did he know?"

"Someone sent him photos..."

She was sobbing again. Draco hated when she cried. Hated to see the sadness drain from her eyes when he could do nothing to stop it. But… maybe he could do something this time—something with the vial that was currently searing guilt into his skin through his pocket.

Ripping the blue powder from his jeans anew, Draco stepped around her totally bewildered form swiftly, pacing to the toilet and forcing open the lid with a loud crack of porcelain. He watched her flinch in his peripheral, her eyes opened and gawking at him with surprise as they leaked.

"What are you doing?"

A fire burned through his fingertips as he unstoppered the vial, dumping the contents into the toilet and tossing the vessel in. Flushing everything down with a deep sneer.

"Let's go," he commanded, turning to her with an outstretched hand, and she looked utterly confused.

"What…"

"Let's go, Granger. We don't need this. We don't need the drugs. Or the parties. I don't need them. I just need you. And I won't let you lose your job. Or give up on your dreams."

"Draco…"

"Let's go home, Hermione."

Her lips quivered dangerously as her face crumpled in tears. And her sobs seemed to prevent her from moving. So Draco strode forward, wrapping his arms about her waist as hers encircled his neck. Shedding tears against him, tingling the skin that they slid against.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, and he didn't care if his apparition would destroy Theo's bathroom.

He just needed to get her home to hold her once again. To fall asleep with her in his arms. And never let her leave again.


End file.
